Page 94 of Stockman's Sandstorm

The front door of the fancy black ute opened, and a man stepped out, dressed in black jeans, boots, and a check shirt.

It was Leo.

Sliding on the Akubra Bree picked out for him, he effortlessly pulled off the look. Leo may not be wearing his suit, but he still had the presence of a cutthroat business executive or a politician—the kind that only pretended to care.

Overhead, the front entrance arch that held the fancy sign made of intricately bent metals, obviously crafted by the in-house master brand makers, announcing Elsie Creek Station, cast long shadows over the red dust that made up the driveway. It only served as a reminder of how quiet it was out here.

She lowered her window just a crack, feeling the heat against the cool air from her car. ‘Can I help you?’

Leo’s ink-black eyes narrowed at her, before he shared a smile. ‘Harper, right? Bree’s friend.’

‘And you’re Leo, the neighbour.’

‘I am. I’m looking for the owners of Elsie Creek Station.’

‘They’re working at the moment. I’m happy to take a message.’ With a lifetime’s worth of experience for playing gatekeeper to diplomats, she was literally playing gatekeeper, with the locked gate in front her, only this time for a bunch of stockmen.

Leo peered inside the car where the dog growled beside the sleeping boy, before he gave an over-friendly smile. It was a politician’s smile that made all the promises in the world only to flip on you in the blink of an eye.

Leo held out a large manila envelope. ‘I own Blackwell Mining.’

‘The mine trying to steal this station’s water.’ Harper never backed down in a debate—especially in her world—now that her brain fog was over.

‘Straight to the point. I like that. I see why you’re Bree’s friend.’ Leo nodded with approval. ‘I’m here to apologise to the owners. It seems the local government got a bit heavy-handed with their letter. I didn’t want that to happen.’

Hold up, she knew this play, having done it herself. ‘And you’re here to make a counteroffer.’ With the hope of the bad guys looking like the good guys.

‘Look, between you and me, we tried to negotiate a decent offer with Charlie.’

Was this the man who had bullied Charlie?

With Bree’s warning in mind, Harper’s fingertips gripped the pepper spray, well-trained to use it as part of her job at the embassy. Along with it came that familiar friend, stress, strapping itself across her shoulders. It was the same level of stress she’d endured for years while living under a constant level-four terrorism threat. Back then she may not have noticed it, but after enjoying a few stress-free weeks, she didn’t like that feeling, or Leo.

‘Now that Elsie Creek has new owners, we can technically argue that the caretaker’s caveat over the property no longer exists. I’d like to offer the Riggs brothers the same deal we made to Clinton Darcie.’

‘Who?’

‘Samuel Darcie’s son. The old owner of Elsie Creek Station.’ He angled his head at her.

‘Oh, that’s his name. I only know of him as Darcie’s son.’

Leo again gave that fake smile and pointed to the back seat of the car. ‘Your son?’ It was an obvious distraction tactic to get friendly with the enemy. Another tactic she’d used many times in the halls of parliament.

‘What do you want, Mr Travers?’ Her formality was cool and calm. ‘I have a Skype meeting in ten minutes and a child to feed.’ But there was no way she was getting out of this locked car.

‘Can you give this to the new owners, the Riggs brothers?’ He grinned at her, as he left the envelope on a large rock by the gate.

He then stopped and faced her. ‘Do they know who you are?’

‘Pardon?’ Her eyes flared open.

‘They don’t, do they?’ His chuckle was cold, sending a warning shiver over her shoulders. ‘Now why would a blue blood such as yourself be hanging out with a bunch of rednecks like the Riggs brothers? What would your father say, considering the Riggs’ family come from a junkyard?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, please accept my condolences for your loss.’ Leo even removed his hat.

‘Have a nice day, Mr Travers.’

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